Charles Pflanze

Yesterday, Monday in April, I slogged along in the gully that leads to the Dug entrance to Grady's Cave, thinking about the recent passing away of Joe Saunders, trying to collect my thoughts again and retrieve some memories, thinking of things to write. As usual in spring, the water is at high levels, flowing freely out of Scott Spring. This spring is the first of a series of springs and flood outlets to Grady's. They all feed water into a big gully, which in turn flows into the Green River beside the Dug Entrance. While I was walking, I remembered all of Joe's fascinating field tours and spontaneous hydrology lectures. A botanist by profession, he had the mind of a true scientist, and had a keen enthusiastic eye on what the water was doing under the ground and in the caves.

If anything should be called the Saunders Entrance, I suppose another candidate besides Splash in FRCS would be this second, sometimes-an-entrance to Grady's Cave. Dunno if Joe would have approved though. Sometimes it seemed he was reluctant to draw attention to himself. Well, Joe dug this unstable entrance open once, almost entirely by himself. It took countless months of solitary digging effort, spread out over periods of years. It's now a large gaping v-shaped channel in the side of the river bank, a flood outlet, its actual opening plugged with chunks of rock which allow passage of water but not of cavers. Joe probably fought this battle here and lost before, there's too much loose debris raining in from the unstable steep hillside just above. But we had a temporary success here in the 90's, and I entered several times through this other downstream entrance. I looked around for Joe's massive spud bar with a two inch wide cold-chisel type blade on it, this tool is very heavy, and has stayed at the Dug entrance for many years. I was pleased to find it still there, as usual, half buried by yet another new layer of rock debris since the last dig.

Once, Joe and Suzanne DeBlois and I entered Paxton's Cave in Virginia during a hard pouring rain in springtime. Water was cascading into the sinkhole entrance, and I can remember being a bit apprehensive but Joe assured me everything would be ok and it was, a memorable trip. When we noticed rising water in the back of the cave, we figured it was time to go. Joe knew we were ok, and his confidence reassured me once again. It was a memorable and enjoyable trip, they all were, including the time we rappelled into a virgin pit with a live copperhead on the floor beside the rope. We schussed the snake away into a small crevice in the wall, and went about our work, ultimately with Joe reading compass with this copperhead about three feet away, beady and sinister little eyes swiveling around in there watching him. “Um, Joe, aren't you a bit close to that snake”? “Nah”.

If the going got rough, as it did sometimes, Joe was the perfect leader. His positive and cheerful can-do attitude often set the prevailing mood in the crew. It worked like a charm once on an unpleasant trip out the Remington Entrance. It was early morning in late November. We Cleveland cavers, including Joe's Cleveland caving buddy Bob Nadich, had all gotten wet, and a freezing wind was blasting down the Remington Canyon. Outside the cave the air temperature was below freezing. We had a sort of race to see who could get vertical gear on first. There was some irritated fussing, cussing, and complaining coming from a few of the Cleveland crew, myself particularly. Joe never changed; he just kept smiling, sometimes cackling at our discomfort. Strangely enough, I think we all got some comfort from that, and some confidence. If he wasn't worried, then we weren't either. Just another good campfire tale to tell about what one encounters during routine exploration in FRCS.

I can still remember him laughing at me when I had an explosion of profanity while on the return trip through the Perforation Passage in Grady's. The passage ripped my cheap cotton-polyester blend coveralls to shreds and tore off the fronts of my cheap jungle boots, leaving the socks hanging out the front. Joel Sparks once had the sole of his boot detach completely due to the sucking mud in Grady's, exiting the cave with the sole strapped on with nylon webbing. Joe's caving compadre Bob Nadich used to have similar mishaps in Grady's. Bob wrote many an entertaining tale about them in trip reports published in the Cleveland Grotto News.

When I first heard that Joe had suffered a brain tumor, I was upset, but hoping that he would recover and continue caving with us. Alas, such was not to be. I used to call him on the phone during his illness and was amazed at his completely positive attitude. He told me that his chances of survival weren't good at all, but he was ready to go if this was his appointed time. He seemed quite satisfied with the cards God had dealt him during this particular episode in the game of life. He had been dealt many aces, even if his game didn't last as long as he might have liked. Joe was a very spiritual person, serious about his Christian beliefs, but never a proselytizer, setting his views forward by example instead of preaching. I respected the power of his views, which Joe could present with the same articulate and detailed analysis he used when discussing subjects of a more scientific nature.

I think Joe's views and values helped inspire his confident and fearless behavior under stress, even if the obstacle was not the interminable crawlway or terminal siphon, but the grim reaper of terminal illness itself. Joe maintained his cheerful, positive attitude all the way to the end of his life, not just to the end of an uncomfortable caving trip. His sister told me that as he was living out his last days in Washington, D.C., he was an inspiration to everyone around him. During my phone calls with him, I saw him calmly heading toward that ultimate passage we must all go through some day, reporting on its dimensions and saying hey, it's not so bad, and it goes!

Joe, I'll remember that. I'll think of some of the things you told me about nearing the ultimate passage. It helps when somebody's scouted it out a bit, and gives a few pointers and helpful reports, you were always teaching me things. When I first started caving with you, I was inspired to push way beyond any limits I thought I had, I did things I never thought possible in caving, at least for me. Well, we sure will miss you Joe. I feel real privileged to have caved with you, and I've learned many things from you about caving, about science, and lately and most importantly, about life itself and of some of the best ways to live it. You're gone from us now, but your deeds will live on, as will the memories.

Where does it go, Joe?